


So not okay

by mattysones



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Male Lactation, Male Solo, Nipple Play, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 06:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15679470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattysones/pseuds/mattysones
Summary: You had to give Lance a break; they did a lot of things that made a lot of body parts hurt. It took a few weeks for him to realize it was hisbreasts, andnohe did not otherwise think too much about the fact his chest hurt.





	So not okay

You had to give Lance a break; they did a lot of things that made a lot of body parts hurt, and some days his pectorals and chest got used more than other days. It took a few weeks for him to realize it was his _breasts_ , and _no_ he did not otherwise think too much about the fact his chest hurt.

He remembered his sisters complaining about aches. He'd never made fun of them, thank you, his mamá would murder him. But a look in the mirror in his room after several weeks of aches made him realize it was the soft tissue of his lower breast. 

Fresh from a shower and towel slung around his hips, he poked where his chest was sore, looking for a bruise. He startled when sent a small shock to his nipple, not exactly a feel-good thing, but there was definitely more sensation than before.

Lance frowned at the mirror; he didn't have much chest to speak of and his nipples had never been sensitive. He squinted at his reflection and reached to grab his chest with both hands, squeezing.

The ache lessened, but the muscles in his hands weren't different from before. He was lean, so there wasn't much padding, just muscle he'd gained from fighting a war.

Weird. Maybe he was just having a growth spurt? This didn't feel unlike that.

He flexed his hands against his pecs, letting the heat from his hands soothe the hurt - that shock from before was something that _could_ feel good. Some guys had sensitive nipples, but that was more for women, right? 

He opted to ignore it. There were more important things to worry about...

...which was fine until running became difficult.

He'd seen pictures of peoples' whose nipples bled while they ran because of the friction from their shirts. He wasn't bleeding yet, but he felt like he had a rugburn.

Bandages it was. Luckily they had some adhesive-style ones that he could just slap on before his runs. With an entire castle's supply of bandages, no eyebrows were raised when a box went missing. He hid them in a storage compartment under his bed.

 _Keep it secret, keep it safe_ , he thought while he stored his bandage hoard away. Not that he was _hiding_ anything. It just seemed really stupid to complain about? _Hey guys my tits hurt, can you run a diagnostic to make sure I'm not getting space-cancer?_

"Any advice?" Lance asked Kaltenecker while he did her first milking for the day. He sort of enjoyed talking to her - cows don't care. Cows don't judge. Kaltenecker huffed and flicked her ears toward him. "I figure you're the boob expert on the ship," he said from under her massive belly, "Not like I can take an Ibuprofen and ignore it though." Well, he guessed he could, technically, Space Ibuprofen but he'd have to answer _questions_.

Kaltenecker didn't say anything, just huffed quietly. Lance sighed and pulled away to pat her side, "Well, if you have any ideas tell the space-mice and maybe they can translate it through interpretive dance." Actually, the mice were perfectly capable of writing, they just chose to be little shits.

When he stood to gather his supplies, Kaltenecker turned to bump him with her snout and ask for ear scritches. He sighed and pat her snout.

* * *

That night he felt a great pressure in his chest. He fidgeted in his half-sleep, pressure shifting into something sharper and warmer. Barely even semi-concious, his fingers trailed to his sore, chafed nipples to rub at them, feeling the flesh swell under his fingers and send heat thrumming through his body. He moaned in his sleep and woke enough to grumble and roll onto his stomach.

The next morning he noticed his night shirt sticking slightly to chest. He unstuck it with a tug at the bottom, still damp but with remnants of a dried film. Lance stared at the dark spots, paling a little.

"Nope," he said and jerked the shirt off, throwing it into a shoot that led to the ship's laundry.

* * *

"Okay, body," Lance said to his reflection much later. His glared at the commandeered mirror standing in his room, towel wrapped around his waist, "You can't be producing weird liquids without permission."

When his reflection had no immediate answer for him, he poked at his chest, frowning when there seemed to be more padding there than he remembered. The ache returned, and he dug his fingers into his lower breast, a soft pulse making his muscles relax. The ache dispersed with a pleasured thrum.

He bit his lip when his nipples swelled, sharp tingles jolting down deep in his belly.

Well, that wasn't what he was expecting. 

He squinted accusingly at the reflection, glancing down to take a closer look - his areolas were definitely darker than he remembered. His head worked, trying to find a cause and not finding much besides what the others might have also been exposed to.

Space radiation? Likely.

The food? Who even knew.

He thought back to the liquid from earlier and pinched at the areola hesitantly. The pressure peaked and the aching in his chest returned with a vengeance.

His breath hitched.

Heat pooled in his belly and the rugburn feeling also returned, but more disbursed; his chest tingled, but the more he rubbed at the sore flesh the more the ache lessened and sent warm tingles into his nipples. A glance at the mirror reminded him of what he was doing - even though there was no one with him a flash of embarrassment made him stop.

Lance grumbled to himself, began lowering his hands but his chest felt uncomfortably heavy without the pressure. He paused, shifting his hands to how he might cup a girl's chest.

He pressed hard into the muscle under his breast, the relief was instant; pleasurable shocks loosened his back and his nipples pulled tight, shocks coursing straight to his groin. He sucked in a breath and kept his eyes down, unable to look at his reflection because _holy shit_ he shouldn't have so much feeling here, should he?

He tentatively thumbed up to a dark nipple, shivering when heat pulsed in his belly. He pulled his hands away, thumb coming away slightly damp, like he had licked it. He hadn't.

That was enough exploration for the night. He stepped away from the mirror and tugged at his towel, trying not to think too hard about how he was half-hard.

* * *

Every time he tried to run drills without the bandages his nipples became puffy and sore in the worst way that no amount of massaging chased the agitated feelings completely away.

Otherwise he felt normal, not sick or anything, so he didn't think this was an infection. His body had just ... decided to make this change. Apparently. Totally normal for some people, Lance was sure.

Except Pidge stopped him in the middle of the Suicides Shiro had them doing, looking at him with concern.

"Lance," she said, "You're ... dripping."

Which wouldn't have been too strange since they'd all seen each other in varying stages of Sweaty Unholy Mess, but Lance looked down and there were two dark trails leaking from under his bandages, soaking through his designated workout shirt.

"Oh." He paled a little, and ignored Pidge's concerned look and sprinted right out of holodeck they'd set up to have a running track. 

_"Hijo de perra,"_ Lance hissed when he saw his reflection. The trails were dark and obvious; no wonder Pidge had commented on it. He pulled his shirt off and looked at the bandages, the adhesive coming loose with how wet his chest was. The trail left his belly damp, but a quick inspection showed the liquid to be clear. Small blessings? Or maybe he should be worried. He didn't fucking know.

He wiggled his fingers under a bandage and prepared to rip it off ...

and somehow he expected like, a horrible gush of _something_ ; blood, maybe the reveal of a parasite Alien-style, but really, the bandage was just wet and came right off. He shivered when the air hit his chest, nipple raw from running despite the bandage, areola _shiny_ from how swollen it was.

He was gonna put in a complaint with whatever authority decided this was okay. He pulled the other bandage off quickly, leaving the skin red where the adhesive had pulled. Liquid pebbled on his nipple, and he hesitantly reached up to wipe it off with his thumb. His nipple pulled tight, and he shivered with the sore good-hurt feeling that flashed up his spine. He rubbed again, watching carefully to see if anything else came out, and maybe to get that feeling again. 

The sharp pain twinged into something hot, and his sore breast pulsed, muscles aching and heaving with relief the more he rubbed. He sucked a heavy breath in, raising his hand to give both sides the same treatment, and relief released up his spine, pleasurable sparks flitting down to his groin.

There was a heavy knock on his door.

"Fuck." Lance jumped and grabbed his shirt to wipe off his chest.

Pidge's voice was muffled through the door, "Lance?" She called, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" He yelled. But knowing she'd unlock the door herself, keypad or no, he glanced down to make sure there were no obvious boners and let the door slide open. He leaned an arm against the side panel in a totally casual, normal way and gave his best sparkling grin, "Everything's A-OK."

Pidge, still in her workout clothes, wrinkled her nose at his bare chest and squinted up at him, "You sure ran off fast for 'okay'." She crossed her arms and glared, "What's with your chest?"

Lance shrugged, "Not a clue," he lied, "Probably just sweating weird."

Pidge's expression went unreadable, "Sweating weird."

"Yep." Lance felt the hair on the back of his neck raise and his face felt stiff, "I'm gonna change shirts and I'll be back to finish with you guys."

Pidge's mouth pursed and she tilted her head with concern, "If you're sick--"

"Sure am not!" Lance said cheerily and stepped backwards so the door could close, "See you in a few."

* * *

It couldn't be easy to just ignore the weird change his body had decided to inflict on him. The pains crept their way into his sleep; what few precious hours he got were interrupted when he woke himself with his own rubbing in a subconscious effort to ease the aches. Rolling onto his stomach seemed to give him a good counter pressure, but he was a back-sleeper and shifted uncomfortably despite his best efforts.

His dreams had him anxiously worrying about the strange state of his body. His sleeping brain offered explanations like being possessed by some space-parasite or being manipulated by more weird, unexplainable energy sources. His dreams ended with him rubbing worryingly at his chest, nipples peaking and swelling the more he pulled and worried at them, until he woke himself by grabbing at his cock, other hand fondling the sore flesh of his breast.

He woke slowly, confused in his half-awake state and blind from his sleep mask. He focused on the jump of his hips into his palm - that was familiar, that was safe- while his tender nipples sent pleasured pulses to his belly, cock twitching in response and leaking over his hand; he must have been like this for a while because he was _wet_ , even only half-hard. 

He moaned, pulling downwards at his cock, feeling it swell in his fingers while he palmed himself more firmly the more awake he became. His knees hitched upward, feet bracing to push himself into an arch while his hand slid wetly over his dick. His fingers pinched lightly at his puffy areola, nipple so tender that the barest touch made him shudder.

He felt good. His breath came harder with each tug, pinch and arch, body running hot and shivery.

Lance bit his lip, swiping his palm up to his sensitive cockhead, letting precum dribble with every rub over his hand, slicking his palm to grab at his shaft and give a few firm tugs that easily could have him cumming, but he wasn't ready yet.

With hesitation, he slid his wet hand up his belly, palming underneath his night shirt and let a hand cup each pectoral. His hands were warm and the heat eased the ache. He pushed upwards on the muscle and heat shocked up his neck. He gasped, letting his knees fall open to feel his wet cock slap against his belly and balls pull tight. His hips rolled. He wanted to come.

Orgasm curled tight in his belly, winding tighter the longer he played his chest; his fingers massaged at his swollen areolas, soft gasps leaving him when he ventured to pinch them. His nipples were hard and every touch felt too rough, too sensitive to touch directly - just rubbing around them sent heat down his spine. 

He pulled his fingers away to lick at them; when they returned touching directly didn't hurt so much and he rolled the hurting flesh between his thumb and pointer, letting the remaining fingers press hard into the muscle below. He moaned, cock jumping at the pressure and belly pulling tight at the coarse pleasure; it was like every nerve was connected to his tits. He rubbed his feet against the bed sheets and rolled his hips again, feeling how hard he was, how each muscle reacted to every tug at his chest, 

He whimpered when he felt dampness leak out between his pulling fingers, the soreness dissipating and he _knew_ what was happening, but it felt good; it felt like relief so he pinched more firmly, let his chest get wet and brain go blank.

He shuddered as his pelvis flexed with every rhythmic pull of his hands, and the muscles in his belly spasmed, warning him of the orgasm about to rush out of him. Air hissed out of him, and he barely realized he was murmuring 'yes yes yes' at the pulsing pleasure, until his stomach was pulling tight and he was cumming so hard he saw white, legs kicking and soft whimpers leaving his mouth while his dick twitched without help from his hands.

This orgasm was different from others; it was like it was reaching deep from his core instead of his balls. He grabbed his cock, and the thin string of cum suddenly became thicker and he swore he came a second time, unable to help the soft wail from his throat. He slid his palm over his belly to check and yep, that sure was a mess. He was too loose too care, and instead swiped his thumb over his head, whined and let his cock fuck into palm until he was too soft to continue.

His chest tingled, this time from pleasure and not from lingering pain. He rubbed the ache out easily and rolled onto his side, able to sleep soundly for the first time in a week.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm open to suggestions to properly end this fic lmao. is there a pairing you wanna see? i'm open to most things.
> 
> I actually have an explanation but I dunno I just wanted to write nips
> 
> feel free to talk to me on [tumbles](http://mattysones.tumblr.com)  
> [ask.fm](https://ask.fm/mattysones)


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